W is for Wartime
by xxxMidKnightxxx
Summary: When you lose your family at a young age it is tough, and for a young girl with strange looks and a tragic past it is nothing short of that. Being noticed is not in her best interest, but when you are the lone survivor of a weapons testing event and harbor the soul of the Blue-Eyes, that is hard to avoid. TUHBT's Please, Thank You and You're Welcome rewritten thanks to reviewers.


**Oooh one of these intro author's note thingies, even though it's been quite some time I always get excited by author's notes. Anyway it's TUHBT back from the grave as xxMidKnightxx (still a LK fan) and this is the first chapter re-write of my original fanfic Please, Thank You and You're Welcome. I rebranded it so people would like it again and maybe not even notice that it was the same story but as I know, FanFiction readers are far more clever than that. XD**

**Anyway, here's the first chapter, it has a little more of the original plot devices I was going to write into the original story later on, so now you have the ACTUAL reason she hated KaibaCorp in the first place. I also don't have the Missy Higgins bit anymore, now this story inspires itself and I don't have to find a lyric that goes with each chapter!**

**TL;DR right?**

**xxMidKnightxx**

**(I still love you!)  
**

* * *

The little blonde-haired boy had his slacks rolled up to just above his knee. Gingerly he placed a bare foot into where the slow, cool stream ran barely above the smooth stones on the bank before flowing into the ocean. Pleased with the temperature he had waddled in, closely followed by his older sister who had hitched her free-flowing skirt up so that it didn't get wet. The toddler, just four years old, waded into the cool stream until it was just below his knee. He dipped a small hand in the water, scooping up some wet reeds from the bottom and played with them in his fingers.

He scrunched them up, being careful not to squeeze out too much of the water, kneading it gently. He waited until his sister was quite close, for his range was not that long, and when she was just a step behind him, he spun and threw the reed-ball into her hair.

"Zero!" she squeaked, pulling the sticky green slime out of her shining silver hair. The little boy giggled, his mop of unruly faded gold hair bobbing with glee. He flashed an overly white smile, his emerald green eyes crinkling in the corners.

The girl sighed as she freed the last of the weeds from her tresses and placed her balled fists on her hips. She peered down her nose at the boy, sparkling sapphire eyes filled with mock disdain and disappointment. He splashed over to her and gave her a hug, wrapping his chubby little arms around her waist. Her mood melted and she returned the gesture just as tight.

"Sorry Kissy, accident" he giggled into her stomach.

"Doubt it" the pale girl replied, rolling her eyes at his youthful innocence.

He was born four years after her, and despite the age gap being quite large, the pair were quite close. She was patient, which had always matched well with her brother's talent for mischief and mayhem. The two were well suited to each other, contrasting greatly to their older brother whose dark and angry demeanour had always left his siblings in tears.

He had gone away a few months ago, disappeared as if over night. Neighbouring parents had let our family know that he had gone on a trip with their boys. That was the first time their youngest two had seen them really mad.

* * *

Our parents were kind-hearted folk. Our father, bone-white hair that made him look elderly and red eyes like our brother, which made him a focal point for fear in the village children, was thought to be mean and angry. For those that knew him better, he was actually quite placid and calm. He had been an excellent father, while tough on punishment and unmoving of decisions he felt that his children should be able to take every opportunity, a trait in parenting he adopted from our mother.

Our mother, a soft-spoken and gentle woman, was often a voice for comfort and reason. Never, like on that night that my elder brother disappeared, had we ever seen them so livid.

As we plodded out of the water, a slight charcoal-like smell wafted through the air. We thought nothing of it, until a loud yell and the sadistic cracking of a house falling in was heard. I grabbed Zero by the hand and started to run, we ran up the path, still bare foot and legs dripping, back to our home, our instructions for times of danger.

As we drew closer to our village the air became thick with smoke. I heard Zero start to cough and instructed him to pull the neck of his t-shirt up over his mouth, when he began to breathe easier I tugged him as a gesture to continue running.

The fire was everywhere. Houses, people, pets, cars, everything was on fire. Mothers wailed for their children and soldiers fired guns at the crowd. Zero began to glow green, inciting my panic.

"No, don't they'll see us" I whispered harshly, trying to conceal the glow from view, knowing full well he couldn't stop what was happening. A little dragon, green and gold but tiny like a snake, stretched out its little wings. It slithered toward my young brother and wrapped around him protectively. I grabbed my brother's hand and wrenched him up, shooting a look of apology towards his Ka. It simply nudged the back of his ankles knowingly and pushed him to follow me. With its tiny little wings, it flew just beside my brother at ear height.

I pulled my brother to shelter behind a car, my father's red jeep, the only car that we had seen that had not yet been burnt out or had the windows smashed in.

"Sara, I'm scared!" He wailed, his Ka floated down beside him, rubbing it's head in comfort against his leg. He instinctively pet its head and hummed a calming tune, trying to both calm the little dragon and himself. I hastily silenced him, as I heard foot beats and the soft thodding of bullet shells emptying onto the ground. A soldier unleashed a round into the car we were sheltering under. Broken glass from the windows rained down on our heads as I pulled my brother under my arm for safety.

We heard a nearby scream, Zero's head flicked up in recognition. His eyes still glowed green, but the corners were pinching up with fear and tears were beginning to flow down them.

We ducked our head around the car in time to see our father in the choke hold of a man, his neck and mouth covered by a thin scarf. Our mother was begging with him, pleading for the life of the soldier's captive. The soldier threw back his head and laughed, soot falling from his already pitch black hair. He cocked the weapon and fired in one deft motion. The man fell limp in his arms, to which he was discarded, thrown to the curb like a ragdoll to collect dust.

I felt a movement under my arm. Zero moved quickly, ducking out of the cover of the car and running toward our mother. The little dragon squawked protest, but in an instant was at his host's side. I opened my mouth to scream but it filled with smoke and went dry, only uttering a cough. I clutched my throat as the smoke burned at it, filling my eyes with tears. I looked to my brother sprinting towards the soldier and our mother, her mouth mirroring mine in wide open horror.

The soldier spun, and with one deft solid movement, unloaded a few bullets into the toddler, who fell where he stood almost immediately. The tears started flowing down my face. My lungs were burning. My mother stood to move over to my brother, screaming, and moving with shaky footsteps, repeating "my boy, my boy" over and over. The soldier dispatched her promptly, laughing sadistically at the scene of a woman slumped over her dead child, both never to breath or laugh or smile or cry or do anything ever again.

No family left. No-one to take care of me or to love me or to go to the river with me, my little brother was gone, my parents, my friends. I slumped back against the car and cried, everything I had ever known was gone and there was nothing I could do about it. I could hear the crunching of glass as the soldier walked toward me, I didn't even bother to stop crying and just wailed louder. I was so scared and so alone.

_I will handle this now _it said to me, it spoke in smooth cool words, almost soothing. I looked down at my hand, it had begun to glow azure blue. I could hear the soldier, almost upon me now as I could see his reflection in a broken piece of glass.

Then it hit me like a train. As the White dragon burst forth from my chest, brushing off the tendrils of blue light that kept it inside my body I started with the realisation. The young man advancing towards me, short black hair rustling in the heat given off by the fire and dark red eyes that twinkled with spite, was one I'd known for so long. In his arms a weapon, ugly grey metal emblazed with a small silver "KC" at the bottom of the handle. That image, that symbol, it was burned into my retinas for life.

The boy rounded the corner and began to glow red, knowing that a weapon of such a calibre was not enough to take down the king of the dragons. The Blue-Eyes's tail had curled around me protectively and was growling at the soldier.

My elder brother. Ryota.

The smoke was choking me and I fell against the scales of the dragon's tail, feeling its muscles tighten to support my weight. I looked up at it as it began to charge its lightning attack. I pleaded for this to stop, to go away. I looked to my brother, his black dragon had appeared and was floating above him menacingly. I turned into the tail of the dragon and collapsed, the heavy burning in my lungs proving too much.

* * *

By dusk quite the crowd had gathered around the entrance of the village of Mitsu on the coast of Japan, the larger part of the enthral being media crews who were brushing each other out of exclusion zones so that they could film. To his annoyance, none of the cameras turned when a man in a dark crimson suit, closely followed by his energetic green-haired son, stepped out of a smoke-black estate car. The man stretched his neck up, despite easily being able to look over the crowd from his position, and scanned the town. No survivors. Good.

The small village had been completely obliterated. Bodies littered the area, clothing and hair rustling gently in the sea wind. The houses and central buildings had been destroyed, or had large chunks missing from them and every car as far as the eye could see had been burnt out. Good.

Then his little boy, charming and innocent as he was, gave a yelp and pointed. The media turned to the child, and then followed his little finger to one person. In the middle of the rubble, the ash and the death, was a girl and she was moving, clawing at the dust and spinning herself over, either delirious or trying to pull herself up. That was bad.

The media didn't dare venture into the town, they stayed in the safety of the outer perimeter, fearful of mines or possible radiation. The suited man knew better, and that none of that had been involved. He ceased the opportunity to get the positive attention of the world and moved to his son, gently pushing his back and giving a nod of approval.

To the horror of the media, the small heir hopped over some rubble and ran onto the ash-coated battlefield. His father followed and, with millions of eyes watching, they started their short rescue mission.

The green haired boy reached her first and prodded her with a finger. The girl moaned and coughed. She looked to him with shiny blue eyes filled with tears, before her strength gave out and she closed them again. He observed blood flowing from her hands where glass had been stuck in them when she had tried to get up. She lay under a burnt car shell, with a scorch mark right nearby, he assumed that she had barely escaped death and pet her hair, calling out to his father as loud as his little lungs could muster.

The man in the crimson suit went to his son, dark eyes narrowing to take in the girl. To his relief she was very young and small, perhaps maybe 7-8. She could not testify and may not even remember or have seen anything. She was pale, all over. Her skin was so white it was almost see-through, if it weren't for the tell-tale rising and falling of her chest he would have presumed her dead. Her hair was even paler, almost pure white and shimmering against the setting sun. His son looked to him expectantly, his deep blue eyes mirroring his worry inside. The man looked to his son and gingerly slid his arms under the girl.

She was light to, he observed, being able to pick her up quite easily, he turned with her to the media. They gasped and applauded with all cameras pointed his way. His boy bunny hopped alongside him, making his way over to the car.

"Noah, open the door!" The man called to his son who had skipped quite a large margin ahead. Noah opened the side door and ran around to his side and slid in.

The older man walked with strong poise, heroic, as the media would record it the next day. He arched his back so that he could slide the girl into the seat next to his son's gently, being careful not to bump her in the face of the media. His son helped with the seatbelt and he closed the door gently.

"We are taking her to the hospital, Noah" he announced loudly, answering a question his son never asked, sidling down into the passenger seat of the car.

The media immediately took that as a cue to pack their things, and turn tail to follow their story to the hospital. The news crews started a hasty convoy behind the state car, jostling for position behind it as they rode toward their headquarters in Domino City.

* * *

My first sensation, born from my mind I assumed, was gentle rubbing on my arm, the way my mother used to rub my shoulder when I was sick. I lifted my heavy eyelids with the best of my ability to scan the environment. My surrounds were walls of black leather, my head resting against an extremely clean glass window. I was in a car. I took my time sitting up, coughing once or twice from the burning deep in my chest.

First I noticed the driver.

He wore sunglasses, and his hair was dark brown. He stared intently at the road ahead, navigating the vehicle towards a city in the distance, he wore a completely black ensemble, the only other colour being the white of his shirt.

Boring.

To his left, a man in crimson contrasted his counterpart greatly. He wore blood red clothes and his hair was salt and pepper, the kind of colour I liked in old guys. He was old too, maybe even late forties I couldn't be sure.

Then I realised that the rubbing had stopped and I turned towards its source. This boy was far more interesting than both the front seat passengers combined. He had bright green hair, and big blue eyes filled with wonderment and... fear? I followed a navy sleeved arm with my eyes to where it hovered above my shoulder, confused as to what it should do.

I turned so that my back pressed up against the window and faced the boy, he had retracted his arm and placed it on his lap, knitting together his fingers on his knees and leaning forward to look at me.

"Whacha name?" he asked, his voice chirpy and curious. I straightened until I was more comfortable, which he allowed and waited expectantly for an answer.

"Kisara Tatsumi" I said through a yawn, stretching off my sore back.

"Tatsu-" he began to say politely, but I interjected.

"Kisara is fine. What's yours?" I said fast, looking at him.

"Noah Kaiba, I'm going to be a CEO someday" he puffed out his chest and looked down on her past his nose. She giggled at his antics, he seemed like someone she could be good friends with.

"Well Kaiba" I smiled, though his eyes still reflected an odd concern. I slapped my hands down on my knees dramatically but then yelped in pain. I flipped my palms up to see them. Shards of glass stuck at random angles out of my hand, blood flowing around the spikes and running down my wrists. I was shocked I hadn't noticed them before. Then I sunk in my chair.

"Kaiba" I began, not knowing quite where to start.

"Noah" he corrected, quietly though, as if he knew the question that was coming next.

"Where did my parents go?"

He leaned back and rubbed his hands on his knees awkwardly and looked up at the roof of the car as if contemplating his answer. He turned to me with a sad look in his eyes, I already knew what had happened, but my mind was in instant denial.

"There's been an accident..." he began to explain. The rest of his words were blurred in my mind, I thought to my elder brother Ryota, to the symbol on the guns, my parents and finally to my little brother, Zero. His life had been cut short at such a young and tender age. He would never have the opportunity to live his life and through all the things I could have done to save him, I simply sat and watched him get gunned down.

A stray tear began to well up in my eyes. Noah Kaiba stopped his explanation and fixed me with a hard look:

"Crying is for the weak" he stated matter-of-factly, words probably placed in his mouth by his father. "If you want to get by in life you can't let people see you cry, people are untrustworthy and you should never show them any form of weakness."

I rubbed away the tear and nodded. This was all true and now that I was alone, I couldn't afford to show any signs of weakness. Not now, not ever again.

* * *

**As I say in my bio, I'm a little bit older now, probably even a little bit rounder, but I am now gonna be even more busy with school. Thankfully it is the school holidays now down under (as it is for the rest of the world I imagine silly XD) and I can probably jet out a chapter once a week, however when the school term goes back I might (or I might not) slow down to one every two weeks to one every month.**

**Anyway please review and stuff, I really appreciate it and it's what bought this fic back in the first place! Plus I am always ready to grow, so don't hold back (but don't be a meanie either).**

**Again, TL;DR right?**

**xxMidKnightxx**


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